Away
by TheEnergizerBunny
Summary: "Twice I've had to see you die. Twice I've had to see you give your life for mine, but not this time, Oswald. I won't let you fade away from me. Not this time, not ever." In which the Doctor finds Clara, and in the process, finds himself. - 11/Clara, post-Snowmen, AU-ish
1. Prologue

**Title: **Away  
**Fandom: **Doctor Who  
**Pairing: **11/Clara  
**Rating: **T  
**Type: **Multi-chaptered, slightly _slightly _AU  
**Summary: **"I won't let you fade away from me. Not this time, not ever." In which the Doctor finds Clara, and in the process, finds himself.

**Author's Note: **Hello all! This fan fic has been around for a while (as some of you may know) and today, I decided to revise and re-write some parts I didn't find quite right. The story is pretty much the same as I intended it to be, but the plot was formulated before the return of series 7, so it probably (most likely) won't follow the same storyline as the show's.

I am not English, nor have I ever been anywhere outside my country, so forgive me for the credibility (or lack thereof) of my facts. They don't teach us World History as thorough as they used to.

**Warning: **Horrible grammar ahead. English isn't my first language.  
**Disclaimer: **Don't own, don't sue. I'm under-aged and I don't have a lawyer.

* * *

**Away: **Prologue

_"If I do, will you come away with me?"_

* * *

"Shortcut? Through_ there?_ I hate this place, don't you think it's creepy?"

"Nah," she breathes, a small mischievous grin forming on her lips. "I don't believe in ghosts."

"Well, you certainly won't be saying that once you come across one, now, would you?" Her friend yells from a distance away, her eyes squinted in the blinding light. "Get back here, we're wasting daylight!"

"Hush now, Nina, I'm exploring! You scaredy little wuss," the younger woman replies, her body bent over as she examines an aging tombstone to her right. "The shop'll still be there when I'm done! Don't get your knickers in a wad just because we're in a place full of dead people."

She sighs in an odd combination of exasperation and anxiousness, checking her watch every now and then in between glances at her adventurous friend.

"Nina, come look! This man's last name is _Tiddle_!" Clara calls out from deeper into the graveyard, her melodious laugh echoing in the somber necropolis.

"_Ssh_! Stop desecrating their names, Clara! The dead can hear," Nina warns, holding onto the strap of her shoulder bag, getting ready to leave. She thinks she sees Clara roll her eyes from where she was standing. "Please, we really do have to get going."

Clara turns to look at her companion and pouts. "Party pooper." Trodding the wilted grass, she makes it to Nina's side of the graveyard and crosses her arms over her chest in a child-like manner. "Happy?"

"_Delighted, _now come along! The cupcake shop closes in half an hour!" Nina exclaims, pulling on Clara's hand towards the exit.

"Cupcake _schmupcake_. One bite of my world-famous soufflé and your grandmother will have none of those tiny little peasant pastries."

"Oh, she'd have none of _anything_, considering how she would most likely_ die_ of food poisoning, God forbid. Remember what happened to Connor?"

"Don't use the Connor card on me! He didn't even die so your argument is pretty much invalid."

"'Invalid'? He had to be rushed to a _hospital_ because he was vomiting so much he threw up everything he ate since the day before."

Clara narrows her eyes at her. "You're a nasty friend, poking at my baking skills like that. Let's see if you'd like it if _I_ poke fun at _your_ singing!" She quips before putting two fingers to her mouth and hailing for a cab.

"You do, _all the time_, and I have a very lovely singing voice, thank you very much," Nina replies, getting in the cab after her. "_Bea's_, please."

"Yes, miss."

* * *

_**London – April 1st, 2006.**_

The TARDIS crash lands inside the clockworks of Big Ben, snuggling between two giant cogs which may or _may not_ have caused the irregular twitching of the second hand on the clock's exterior. Light steam coming off to the sides, the Doctor pulls the door open and nearly falls to his demise.

"Ah, now _that _would have been problematic."

Holding onto the sides of the door frame for support, he determinedly looks around him for a safe way down. Spotting a metal platform just below him, he rubs his palms together and sits on the edge of his ship, his long limbs struggling to step firmly onto not-so-safer grounds. "Easy does it, big guy, no need to be in such a hurry," he mutters to himself, heaving a sigh of relief when both his feet touch the width of the platform. Carefully sliding himself off the edge, his shoes clack with the metal, the sound of wood hitting steel reverberating along with the rhythmic _tick-tock _of the giant clock.

Realizing he's not too far up, he cracks a wide grin and adjusts his navy blue bowtie. "Something more challenging would have been exciting."

As he begins his trek down the clock, jumping onto platforms and sliding down ropes, it dawns on him that it's been a while since he last visited London. He knows why. He doesn't deny the reason. This place was too full of what-if's and what-could-have-been's and even with two hearts, he's had difficult bearing the loss of the two people he dearly loved.

Smacking his forehead repeatedly with his palm, he snaps out of it, blinking a couple of times before he continues his trip down the tower.

He was here, wasn't he? Running after Clara? Running and chasing and _living_, just like he used to love doing?

Amy had only said aloud what was true about his lifetime – 'the Doctor should never travel alone' – and she's absolutely right, he doesn't have to.

* * *

**/to be continued **


	2. Third Time's the Charm

**Author's Note: **Hello again! I genuinely did not expect the warm reception this fan fic would get and so, from the bottom of both my beating hearts, I _thank you. _You guys are cool.

Anyway, here is the first chapter! There may be a couple of things off with this but in my defense, I've _never _been to London, and I am an absolute pinhead when it comes to geographic locations and all that sort of thing. I try to keep up with the British slang, though (if you can call it that), and I'm about to have someone proofread my British before I have my chapters uploaded. Exciting stuff.

Alright, enough babbling. I hope you like it!_  
_

* * *

**Away:** Chapter 1_  
__Third Time's the Charm_

* * *

"I've got the cupcakes!" Nina calls out, boxes of freshly baked red velvet cupcakes piled over the other in her hands.

"Took you long enough, it's getting dark out," Clara responds, watching in amusement as Nina struggles to open the door with her hip.

"That wouldn't be a problem, would it? Or were you lying when you said you didn't believe in ghosts?" Her friend snaps back, shooting the shorter girl a pointed look when she doesn't make a move to help her.

"Oh, there goes it, ladies and gentlemen! My friend of twelve years, _accusing_ me of lying! You've really done it this time, Howard. Consider this friendship done."

"Are you coming over for dinner?"

"_Of course_. You didn't have to ask that." Nina just laughs in reply. "You might have to go on ahead, though. I've got to pick up some dry-cleaning from across the street and drop it off at the Maitland's for a quick bit."

"But Mr. Applebaum _hates _you."

"Oh, but 'hate' is such a strong word."

"Honestly, was it _necessary_ to flood the laundry?"

"I wouldn't have dumped all that detergent in the first place if they'd done a good enough job of removing the stain off my favourite sweater!"

Nina purses her lips. "Right, I best be off. Dinner should be ready around 7:30 so _don't be late. _Nana Lily's missed you dearly," she tells her, shifting her hold on the boxes for a more comfortable walk home.

Clara runs off to the street parallel theirs, chestnut hair flying in the cool summer wind. She hops to the sidewalk just before a speeding bike could leave tracks on her boots, swiftly turning to look at her friend on the other side and shouting, "Roger that!"

Nina smiles and walks away.

* * *

He walks the streets of London that night with the breeze in his face and he's not quite sure how to treat the melancholic vibe it was setting off. Sure enough, the city lights danced in front of his eyes and the air smelled of the familiar scent of summer but while everything about the city had been vibrant and lively and _happy_,something is terribly, terribly off with the place now that the population was down two people.

(He wonders if somehow, Amy can hear his thoughts, because he just tripped over a tiny crack in the pavement and he's pretty sure it hadn't been there a second ago.)

But he doesn't give up on Clara. She managed to fill the void that was threatening to overtake him and he _needs _that (he needs _her_). She managed to bring him out of his misery when he was almost certain it would swallow him whole, and there's just _something _about her that makes him feel_…_ right.

He might have been unsure at first, but he was certain of it now. _Something _had brought them together, a force so strong it made them cross paths twice, in _two lifetimes_, and who was he to defy the workings of the universe?

He was just a Timelord, after all.

"Excuse me! Good man with the stick through a sausage, may I inquire – exactly _where _is the local graveyard of this fine city?"

The man in question is taken aback, hotdog halfway to his mouth when this guy wearing tweed asks him where the graveyard is at 7 in the evening. After a moment, he just shrugs, concluding that he's come across weirder people in weirder places. "Not far from here. You just round that corner over there and it should be a couple of streets away."

"Right then, thank you sir. You have a good sausage, now!"

"Will do!"

Ah, London. Home to the most hospitable oddballs this world has ever known.

* * *

"Mr. Applebaum, might I suggest you watch your tone with me as _I _have certain connections that allow me to be, well, in the know," she informs him, eyeing the man menacingly from the exit. "I know you run this place without a permit, and it won't be too difficult to let the authorities in on your little secret. Good evening," she says as her parting words, a satisfied smile on her face as she closes the door behind her gently.

_I guess I'm going to have to buy myself a new favourite sweater, then. _

Blowing the bangs away from her eyes, she starts her trip to Nina's, one hand shoved down her coat's pocket and the other holding onto the strap of her bag.

London was beautiful at night. It truly, _truly_ was. She's lived here all her life but it still amazes her, the transformation that seems to take place whenever the sun sets. She knows that there is more to the world than just London, and given the opportunity she'd probably leave and explore the rest of it, but she'd always come back. _Always._ London is home.

Just then, a gust of wind blows past and stops Clara in her tracks. _Did the wind just tell me something? _She turns around, looking for a possible source of the voice she barely understood, but finds nothing. _It's all in your head, Clara,_ she thinks to herself._ All in your head. _

Patting her cheeks as if to snap her back to a less-anxious state, she sneaks a glance at her watch and her eyes widen.

_It's half past 7._

With 12 minutes to get to Nina's, she runs to the other side of the road and thanks her lucky stars that she did not decide to wear heels that morning. She'd take a cab, but she remembers that she doesn't have any money on her, and that it had been Nina who paid for their taxi fare to_ Bea's_.

Quickening her pace, she runs further down the street and is about to make a left when she catches sight of the graveyard she and Nina had been to earlier. The front gate was open.

Stopping for a second to think, she knows this is her best chance to get to Nina's on time, and so she sucks in a deep breath and smirks. "I _did_ say I didn't believe in ghosts."

Running inside and trying not to break any tombstones in the process, she steers clear of _RIPs _and mumbles an apology to the deceased for disrespecting their resting places. She figures she has about 6 minutes left, so she tries to run faster, but she misses a step and trips over a large branch that had fallen from a huge acacia tree.

Hitting the ground, she lets out a small "ow", and quickly attempts to sit up and see the damage.

"Oy, you over there, are you alright?" A man calls out from a few meters away, the silhouette of his form getting larger as he got nearer to where she was sitting.

"I'm fine, yeah, you can get back to mourning now," she shouts back, cradling her sprained ankle in both hands. She must have scraped her foot somewhere sharp; a bit of blood was starting to show and the dark red seemed to glisten under the moonlight. She feels her body weakening at the sight.

"I wasn't_…_ _mourning…_" the man replies, his voice getting louder and clearer. "And it's quite obvious that you are _not _alright, seeing that you are slumped to the ground as if you were badly wounded and _holy mother of custard_, you are!" He exclaims, kneeling next to her and examining her foot.

"It's just a small gash," she mutters, feeling a tiny bit lightheaded as the blood continued to brim.

"But you're hurt," he says, his tone concerned.

"I'll be fine. Please, don't mind me," Clara tells him, shifting slightly to try and stand when suddenly, she is frozen in her seat, the touch of his cool skin on her ankle surprisingly soothing her.

"Um, what are you doing?" She asks, sounding a bit panicked as to where this was going, but his hand remained on her ankle, and she feels the pain magically going away.

"What are you doing?" She repeats, the initial panic now replaced with genuine astonishment, as she watches her ankle glow from beneath his hand, the pain now ceasing to exist.

He doesn't reply, removing his hand to reveal a virtually repaired foot - no bruises, no wounds - offering her the same hand to help her up. She twists and rotates her ankle, shocked at how it fluidly moves as if it hadn't been sprained just moments before. Looking up to see who he was, she is greeted by a tall, skinny man, his face and eyes radiating with the warmth and kindness of an old friend.

"Did that just literally happen?" She queries, her eyes wide in bewilderment.

"What did?" The stranger asks back, a small smile on his lips.

"_That,_" she says, pointing to her ankle. "The glowing, healing thing you just did. _That happened?_"

"Why, yes, I suppose so," he replies, his smile widening at her excitement.

She looks down at her foot, then back to him. "_How_?" She asks again, her head cocked to the side.

The man shrugs. "Can I have a go at asking the questions now?"

"Well, _yes_, sure, but-"

"What's your name?"

She looks up at him, slightly offed at how he cut her in, but nevertheless, she answers, extending her hand out for a handshake."Clara Oswald."

He takes her hand and shakes it, his childish grin splitting his face in two.

"And you are?" She proceeds to ask, when he doesn't make a move to introduce himself.

"Oh," he starts, still shaking her hand. "I'm the Doctor."

Clara raises an eyebrow. "Doctor who?"

* * *

**/to be continued**


	3. Paused

**Away:** Chapter 2**  
**_Paused_

* * *

The Doctor smiles at her stupidly, his hand still shaking hers when she gently, awkwardly pulls her hand away.

"It's you. It's _really _you," the Doctor mutters, mostly to himself, his face an odd combination of excited and unbelieving.

Clara knits her eyebrows together, perplexed. "Have we met before?"

"Yes, twice, and both times you died, but that's an awful lot to take in for a third first meeting so I'm taking the simpler route here by saying '_no_, we have not'," he says considerably, wagging his finger at her. "Although in a way, it _is _kind of true. We haven't met in this lifetime until tonight, so I really can't be fibbing, can I?" The Doctor asks her, not really expecting a response. "Anywho, have you got some place to be, Clara Oswald?"

The girl just blinks at him.

"I'll take that as a no. Come with me!" The Doctor yells, pulling her towards a secluded part of the graveyard. At this point, Clara's recovered from the confusion and starts shouting for dear life.

"Where the hell are you taking me? _Let me go!_ Somebody, help! I'm being abduc–," she shrieks before she is interrupted, the Doctor's hand covering her mouth, effectively silencing her for a short while.

"_Shut up! _You're giving people the wrong impression!" He whisper-shouts at her, jerking his hand away when she courageously licks it.

"What impression? That you're _kidnapping me_? 'Cause honestly Doctor that _is _the sort of impression you're making on me," she snaps, crossing her arms over her chest in an intimidating stance.

"I'm not kidnapping you! Blimey, where did _that _come from? You're not even a kid anymore so the term doesn't really apply, now, does it?"

"Then what are you _doing _taking me to the darkest, most sinister-looking part of this graveyard if you don't plan to take me hostage?"

"We're just passing through here. I'm leading you to the exit!" The Doctor explains, tugging at her arm. "You're a feisty little lady, you are. You remind me of a barmaid I used to know."

"Who are you calling 'little'?" Clara retorts, wriggling her hand free from his grip. "And as much as I enjoy trying to make sense of all your nonsense, Doctor, I _do _have some place to be. I've got dinner with a friend and her grandmother, and I'm already terribly late…"

The Doctor nods in understanding. "Ah, right. Of course. I'm, uh, sorry for wasting your time, then," he mumbles apologetically, leaning forward as if to say 'sorry' before taking a few steps back. He flashes her a hopeful smile. "If you're curious, though, just drop by Big Ben later tonight. I'll know if you come."

Leaving her under a lamppost, he walks away and thumps himself a number of times on the head, talking to himself animatedly with wild, manic hand gestures. She finds herself smiling at the sight, thinking it odd that despite the… _unusual_… encounter that took place just moments ago, she kind of, sort of likes him.

_His chin is incredibly pointed, though. Could poke a guy's eye out._

* * *

"Where have you been? You're nearly an hour late!" Nina greets her when she opens the door, an uneaten cupcake in her hand. "Nana Lily was starting to think something happened to you."

"Aw, Nana Lily!" Clara exclaims, brushing past Nina to find the older woman in the living room, eyes trained on the telly where gladiators are swinging their swords at each other.

"Hush now, _Ben-Hur_!"

"Right, sorry Nana Lily," the brunette apologizes, retreating back into the hallway where she bumps into Nina and makes her drop her cupcake.

"'Sorry' won't cut it, Oswald, unless it can bring us back to a time when my cupcake was safely, edibly in my hand."

"It's still edible! There's the five-second rule for a reason," Clara counters, picking up the cupcake and dusting off the invisible germs at the top before handing it over to Nina with an innocent smile on her face.

"It's been on the floor for more than 5 seconds and you _know _i-." Nina stops suddenly, her face frozen, her mouth contorted as if she was about to speak (well, she _was_), and her body perfectly, scarily still._  
_

It was like she was _paused _or something.

"Nina?" Clara starts, snapping her fingers in her friend's face. When that doesn't work she nudges her shoulder, accidentally hard enough for her body to fall right back and hit the floor with a loud, pompous _thud. _

"Oh my God, I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that!" She cries, pulling her up by the shoulders. "Blimey, you're getting heavier. Is Connor overfeeding you? Maybe you should lay off the cupcakes," She then proceeds to comment, switching to Nina's back and pushing her up instead from behind. When Nina's standing upright again, her features still frozen in place, Clara faces her and raises a questioning eyebrow. "You didn't hear any of that, did you?"

When she doesn't respond, she heaves a sigh of relief, quickly transitioning back to confused-and-concerned that she, indeed, did_ not_ respond.

Nina would have never _not _responded to what she just said.

"Ah, now _this _is problematic," she tells herself, turning to look at the living room where Nana Lily is, frozen in her seat and cupcake centimeters from her mouth. She walks to her and waves a hand in her face, but she doesn't budge. She looks behind her and _Ben-Hur _is still showing, the characters still moving and the old static that always used to stop her from enjoying the Howard television still there, seemingly unaffected by the pause that had already overtaken Nina and good ol' Nana Lily.

She runs out the door and looks around. One woman with a dog (an unrecognizable one at that, it's got boots on, the poor tiny thing) has one leg raised off the ground, her eyes crinkled shut and her mouth in an oval O as if she was about to yawn. The dog doesn't seem to sit well in stillness and is trying to get a move-on, chewing agitatedly at his leash but ultimately trapped by the collar around his neck. Eventually he gives up and sits on the street in defeat.

One man has fallen sideways on the road, his hands still on the handles of his bike with the wheels still slightly turning below him. His back is arched over and his stare is determined, his posture indicating that he was about to gain some speed.

Everyone else is frozen in their places, while everything else seems... _unstirred. _

Something very weird was going on, and she never liked not knowing.

* * *

Back in Big Ben, he concludes that it is more difficult to climb _up _the Elizabeth Tower than it is to climb _down_ it. He is only two platforms up but he is already breaking a sweat, wondering why the Universe hadn't gone all-out and given him a time-travelling spaceship _and _the ability to fly.

Halfway through he decides he'd take a bit of a break. Clara hadn't shown up yet - and he was _certain _that she would - so he doesn't have much of a reason to get to his TARDIS in such a hurry. Thinking of doing a bit of exploring (he was inside Big Ben, after all), he wanders about the fourth level up the tower and tinkers with the cogs and corks and screws he'd get his hands on. Looking around, he notices that everything inside this clock is old - decades, _centuries _old - but there is one cog that sticks out all the rest, and it looks new_. _

Picking it up to examine it, he flinches. It was hot, _scorching _to be more precise. He immediately lets it go, shaking his hand in a dry attempt to soothe the pain. He frowns at his new adversary, getting out his sonic screwdriver to examine it further.

"You're not of this world," he says, looking through the readings and stuffing his sonic back in his coat before parting his fingers in the middle to do the Vulcan salute. "_Same here._ Now, question is, how'd _you_ get here?"

"There's a door down there at the back, my brother is affiliated with the Military Police so it was pretty easy to get in..."

The Doctor whirls around, trying to find out where the voice was coming from. He looks to his right and Clara is there, hair disheveled and chest heaving. She musters a tired smile and waves at him. The Doctor grins in reply.

"_Clara!_ Good seeing you again! I knew you'd turn up eventually, although that would probably count as the quickest dinner humanly possible, seeing as not even an hour has passed since we last saw each oth-."

"Dinner didn't happen," she interrupts, rushing towards him anxiously, her eyes trained on his with a questioning stare. "They were paused."

* * *

**/to be continued**


	4. Me, You, Watson, Holmes

**Author's Note**: Aloha! This is an update that is long overdue (two months! I honestly don't know how you put up with me) and while I intended for it to be longer, I thought this was the best way to finish the chapter. I hope 1,410 words will suffice!

Also a quick a/n, this multi-chaptered fan fic only has seven chapters (prologue, chapters one through five, epilogue), just so that I don't mislead anybody. Following my initial plans, this fan fic was supposed to be sort of episodic. Kind of like, how a Doctor Who head-writer would write an episode (only less painful and more terribly-written lol). I started this story before the second half of series 7 aired and this was how I pictured the Doctor to find Clara again, so it's basically AU-ish with hints at canon.

Oh, and another thing: if you haven't re-read the previous chapters yet (I re-wrote every single one in a fit of inspiration), you can go on ahead and do so. I did a bit of re-wording, also adding a few tiny details here and there that may or may not prove essential in the following chapters. Your pick. ;-)

Lastly, another drabble for _Timey, Spacey _is in the works! If you've got a drabble prompt for me, PM me here or message me on my Tumblr (URL change! I am now blogging at **claraoswals **dot **tumblr **dot **com**). My muse hasn't disappeared yet and I would like to take advantage of its presence. :-P

Anywhoozles, I hope you like this chapter!

* * *

**Away: **Chapter 3  
_Me, You, Watson, Holmes_

* * *

"What, you mean like in a film?"

"Yes! No. Well, kind of, _I think_. I don't really know, I can't be sure," she offers unhelpfully, her brows furrowed. "They just sort of stopped, you know? Frozen in place in the middle of whatever they were doing."

"And everyone's like this? 'Paused', as you say?" The Doctor asks again, pacing around restlessly. He didn't expect to jump into something this soon (his jaw is still a bit numb from where Doctor Simeon had touched it), but of course, he never denied a good mystery. (And _there's_ one standing right in front of him.)

"Uh-huh," Clara affirms before adding, "Everyone but me. And you. Plus a dog, with booties. Pink, if you were wondering about the colour."

He turns around to meet her face, comically making his jacket fly about after him. "Why?"

"I don't know! Animals should _never _wear human clothing, I'm pretty sure that's criminal–."

"No, no," he intrudes, waving his hand at her, albeit a bit entertained. "What I meant to ask was, why aren't _you _affected? Me, I can understand, but you…"

She shrugs, pursing her lips, arms over her chest as she resolves to sit on the edge of the platform. "I was hoping you'd be the one to answer that, actually."

"Me?" He asks to clarify, joining her on the platform and swinging his legs in the empty space below them.

"You," she repeats, nodding before facing him. "Strange things have been happening around here, and who better to make of it than an equally as strange man?"

The Doctor smiles. This Clara was no different than the other two Clara's he'd met, and yet, they weren't exactly alike either. (He still hasn't figured out how her whole existence is even _possible_ though, but he'll come to find her out. Eventually. Maybe.)

"Quick question, slightly personal, but are you an alien? I mean, if you don't mind me asking."

"Do I look alien?" He queries, somewhat absentmindedly, this shift in the conversation allowing him to remember the mysterious piece of metal he'd come across earlier. Glancing to where he had left it, he finds the cog gone, and he wonders if that had anything to do with the 'pause' pandemic that somehow struck all of modern-day London.

"No, but there's something about you that gives off that ET vibe."

"I'll take that as a compliment, _so_," he booms determinedly, standing from his seat all of a sudden and offering a hand to help Clara up. "How about we crack this case wide open, eh, Clara Oswald? Are you ready to be my Watson?"

"Oh, no no no _no_, Doctor. If anyone," she begins, taking his hand and pulling him towards her face. "_I'm _Sherlock Holmes."

* * *

"So this is a time machine?" She asks, still slightly panting from their tedious trek up the tower, but excitement very evident in her tone. "An actual, proper time machine?"

"Yep!" He replies, animatedly pressing buttons and flicking switches as he watches her take the TARDIS in from the corner of his eye. "And a spaceship! A time machine _and _a spaceship. The best spaceship in the Universe!"

She rushes to the doors, securing her safety by holding onto the door frame and carefully observing the ship's exterior, straining to see most of what she can without falling to her death. "It's smaller," she calls out, "on the outside!"

A sad smile graces his face, his head going back to a time when a very similar woman had said the exact same words. "I had a hunch you were going to say that."

She runs back in and circles the room, giggling as she runs down the stairs and into the corridors. "My stars, there's a _swimming pool_ back here! Were you aware of that?"

"I've manned this ship for over nine hundred years now. I think I should be aware, yes," he quips, light sarcasm dripping from his statement.

Popping her head out from the doorway, she raises an eyebrow at him. (She does that a lot, doesn't she?) "Oy, don't play clever with me," Clara tells him, walking idly to his spot in the control room.

"I wasn't," he defends, looking down at her as she leans on the panel beside him. "But you might find my being clever handy at times, you know."

"Not if _my _being clever has anything to do with it," she retorts, shamelessly leveling his gaze before skipping to the other side of the console. He frowns.

"Questioning my brilliance, are you?"

"I'm in a police box that's bigger on the inside with a mad man who claims to be a time traveler. All that, _and _the city of London is scarily still, minus a poodle and a couple of rustling leaves," Clara remarks, sliding her hand through the railing. "I'm questioning everything right now. My sanity included."

The Doctor smirks. "Oh, but this, love… this is just the beginning."

* * *

It's rather difficult, Clara thinks, trying to comprehend the world, figuring out how and why it worked that way. Sure, she's had her education, but there were certain things she still cannot come to terms with.

Like, for example, why her brother decided marrying a blonde bimbo nearly twice his age would do him any good and _not_ be utter stupidity for his part (it is pitiful, watching him being ordered around like a lap dog), and, another example, how misleading it is for butterflies to be called the way they are when they aren't exactly butter-coated flies (although the image _would _ruin dairy for all of humanity).

Those are a just couple off of Clara's list that she cannot, simply _would not_ accept.

But time-traveling? Totally legitimate.

"We're here!" The Doctor exclaims, pulling down a lever as she feels the TARDIS ('short for _Time and Relative Dimension in Space_, you take note of that') poise itself on much more solid ground.

"Where?"

"At Nina's! I think. I _hope_," he adds anxiously, checking the monitor to confirm his location. "Not quite. Sort of. About a few streets away, but _eh, _look! The same day. That's an achievement."

"You don't seem to be very skilled in this field of work, Doctor," Clara comments, challenging him before hopping to the exit and pulling the doors open. "I'm worried."

"Hey!" He lets out in offense, pointing an accusing finger at her. "This is _my _ship, and you, I'm afraid, are just tagging along for the ride. A little respect would be much appreciated!"

She flashes him an amused grin in reply, chuckling before rushing off into the cold evening air. He gapes after her from the console, knitting his brows together in annoyance. She appears to enjoy throwing him off quite a lot, but he, on the other hand, doesn't welcome it as much. (That's a lie.)

"Come on, you slowpoke! Come and see!" She yells from outside, clutching onto her jacket as the wind began to get stronger and stronger with every blow.

Walking outside, he looks at the view before him, resembling a diorama of the city as shops and lamp posts lit up the road, cars parked at the center, and everyone silent in their places – others in the middle of jogging, some sitting in cafes, cups halfway to their lips – in picture perfect stillness.

"This is peculiar," the Doctor breathes, running up to random people, trying to get their attention in the silliest possible way before taking his Sonic out and getting their readings.

"Is that a screwdriver you're holding?" Clara asks when she catches up to him, studying the tool in his hands with great intent.

He nods. "A _sonic _screwdriver. There's a difference."

"What does it do?"

"Everything," he replies, flicking the device with his wrist to read the findings. "These people are alive. Regular heart rates, normal biological processes, but brain activity is dead. Almost paralyzed. Stuck in a state of motion as if that part of their neurological systems has been shut down for the moment."

"What? Why's that even happening?" She inquires, standing on her tip toes to look over his shoulder and read the findings for herself. "I mean, shutting down their brains… what for?"

He pauses, his eyes widening at a revelation he hasn't completely made out yet. Alarmed, he tucks his Sonic back in his jacket and turns to Clara, meeting her questioning stare with an unreadable expression. "To make room for something else."

* * *

**/to be continued**


End file.
